


And They All Lived Happily Ever After

by SoundandColor



Category: Twisted (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Breathplay, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Community: kink_bingo, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Mind Games, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Scars, Scars/Scarification, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, orgasm denial/control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/pseuds/SoundandColor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on, Lace.” Danny says, pulling her hands up from his shoulders to his collarbone, baring his neck for her, daring her with the look in his eyes. “Do it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	And They All Lived Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a fill for my Orgasm Denial/Control square over at [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)**kink_bingo**. I hope you enjoy.

 

Danny’s got a scar on his left hip, one right beneath the wing of his shoulder blade and another low on his thigh. This one is the deepest. Pinkish white skin raised and bumpy beneath the fingers she casually drags along its surface.

 

 

“Got into a fight at the center,” he says, running his hand along the side of her neck, thumb stretching forward and ghosting over her jugular. She startles, thinking of a little boy walking toward her with wide eyes ( _I had to. There was no other choice_ ) and he lets her go easily enough. Gives her that look he sometimes gets; like he’s sad, like she doesn’t understand.

 

 

 

What Lacey doesn’t understand is what she’s doing here. How she let him talk her into his house and out of her dress. ( _When he’d reached for the clasp of her bra and she shook her head, no, Lacey wasn’t sure how she expected him to react. If she thought he’d pull a jump rope out of his side table and make her regret it, but he just smiled. Pulled her in for another kiss that made her want to forget why she couldn’t say yes_ ) Lacey should’ve never gone to Regina’s party, she knows that now. Not after Archie bailed. Not after _he_ came back to town.

 

 

 

“Did I ask?” she says tightly, throwing her hair over her shoulder and sliding back on top of him as she pulls his mouth closer, bites down his bottom lip, makes him shut up.

 

 

-

 

 

It’s a couple of days after the murder when Scott decides an awesome thing to do is throw an after-funeral party at his house ( _Regina would totally have wanted this if she weren’t, like, dead you guys_ ) and Lacey is drunk. Sarita’s trying to talk her into staying the night, but she’s mostly made up her mind to catch a ride home when Jo steps up onto the back porch. Lacey has somehow managed to avoid anything to do with Danny and his rag-tag team of PI’s for the last few days but Jo’s playing with the sleeve of her shirt and biting her bottom lip. Lacey knows what that means.

 

 

 

“Hey.”

 

 

 

“What do you want,” Lacey asks, in no mood for this. “The only reason you speak to me is when you’re trying to get info so let’s cut the small talk and get right to the point.”

 

 

 

“Oh,” Sarita says, giving them her full attention. “Is this finally about to get interesting?”

 

 

 

Jo looks sheepish at being called out, but doesn’t even try to pretend like it isn’t true.  “I need to ask you about Regina’s—"

 

 

 

“Did you know you’ve probably said her name more times since she died than I ever did in our entire friendship—" Sarita cuts in, faux thoughtful.

 

 

 

“—Necklace,” Jo goes on like the other girl hasn’t spoken at all. “Do you know where she got it?”

 

 

 

“I might,” Sarita says, pulling her legs under her. “But I have a question for you first.”

 

 

 

Jo watches her suspiciously, but Lacey can see her desire to know begin to outweigh her self preservation. “Go ahead.”

 

 

 

“Do you have any hobbies besides running errands for that freak?”

 

 

 

Jo crosses her arms over chest and looks away. “I’m just curious is all,” Sarita goes on. You don’t seem to do anything else…”

 

 

 

“Sarita,” Lacey finally cuts in. “Can you leave us alone for a minute?” She’s about to argue, Lacey can tell, when she continues. “Please? We’ve needed to talk for a while now. “

 

 

 

Lacey thinks Sarita’s going to ignore her before she stands slowly, eyeing Jo the entire time. Mutters, “since you used the magic word,“ and leaves the back porch before closing the door softly behind her. The two girls sit in silence for a moment. “I already said this but I don’t know where the necklace came from. It just showed up around her neck one day and she never took it off again.” _Not until she died_. Lacey doesn’t need to say that part. They both know.

 

 

 

Jo nods and turns to leave before thinking again and swiveling back toward her. “About that disk, I’m sorry—"

 

 

 

“No you’re not,” Lacey corrects, feeling herself beginning to get angry. “You said as much in the hall. You’ll do whatever you have to do and if I get in the way…” she lets the sentence trail off with a shrug.

 

 

 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to clear Danny, but I don’t like that I had to hurt you to do that. I just… I have to do everything I can for him, Lacey! He’s my friend.”

 

 

 

“I’m—!” Lacey stops short and closes her eyes.

 

 

 

 “You were,” Jo finally says, voice low and hurt. “But you left me.”

 

 

 

She’s so sick of this. Sick of them having the same conversation, sick of people forgetting it was her best friend who got beaten to death, that her whole life went to hell that day just like Jo's did. She looks down at her former friend and can’t see anything to like about her at the moment. “You left me too, Jo. Only you went for the less fun option. Being a moody, loner bitch doesn’t make you better than me.”

 

 

 

“And being a popular, drunken slut isn’t doing much for you either,” Jo shoots back. She seems sort of stunned by her own nerve afterward, like she wants to apologize but doesn't. Lacey shrugs, she's been called worse, as she takes another drink from the cup in her hand. “At least I’m having some fun on the way down. Can you say the same?”

 

 

 

Jo stares at her for a moment, searching for something recognizable, something to remind her of the little girl who was once her friend. Lacey stares back and waits. “He’s innocent,” she says lowly. “You know he is!”

 

 

 

“All I know is he already killed someone. It isn’t that farfetched to think he’d do it again.”

 

 

 

Jo is incredulous as she shakes her head on a wry laugh and turns away. “Why did I ever think you’d help me?” she tosses back over her shoulder as she skulks off around the house and toward the street. Lacey doesn’t bother trying to argue further. Jo thinks they owe Danny something: their friendship, an explanation, the benefit of the doubt. Lacey knows better. What little buzz she had going earlier has been well and truly wiped out and all she wants now is to go home. Lacey stands and starts down the steps when her heel catches and sends her sprawling forward on her hands and knees. Her cup goes flying and her knee hits something hard in the dirt making her clench her jaw against the jarring pain.

 

 

 

“Having a little trouble there?” She looks up to see Danny, hands in his pockets as he stares down at her. The perfect end to a perfect night.

 

 

She starts to move gingerly. “Who keeps inviting you two?”

 

 

“Us two?” He asks, stepping closer but making no effort to help her to her feet. She rolls her eyes and uses the railing to help herself. “Don’t act like you didn’t just sic Jo on me.”

 

 

 

“Back to the canine metaphors, are we?”

 

 

 

“Whatever,” Lacey dusts her dress off—her tights are a lost cause and her knee is slowly trickling blood—before looking back at him with a frown. “Oh, and thanks for the help up by the way.”

 

 

 

“But you know that would involve me touching you, right? I thought this might be too public. Wouldn’t want anyone to see you with the Socio, would we?” There’s annoyance beneath the flat tone he uses against her, but there’s something else too: amusement. A sing-song little laugh at her expense as he grabs her arm and drags her into an alcove at the back of the house, a private nook in a very open space. The memory of two of them in his bed not five days earlier crosses her mind as she’s shoved flat against the brick exterior, the warm, hard line of Danny’s front folding her in place. There are people less than three yards away but, standing where they are, the two of them cannot be seen together. Lacey feels her heartbeat kick up.

 

 

 

“What are you doing?” She can barely make out his features but she knows he’s wearing that infuriating half smirk. “Why do you keep coming to these things? They’re not inviting you to be nice, Danny. They’re doing it to be assholes.” He leans forward into her space and she barely stops herself from trying to back away. “Since you haven't been picking up your phone lately," she feels her ears heat up with shame. "Did you ever think that I might've come to see you?”

 

 

 

Lacey’s struggling to come up with a reply when he kisses her, persuades her into letting his tongue past her lips, into wrapping one of legs around his slim waist before she can think better of it. He’s got his hand on her inner thigh—his thumb nail just barely biting into the skin, exciting her more than she would’ve thought it could—when she comes up for air.

 

 

 

Lacey licks her lips and shakes her head, tries to think. “You’re really trying to tell me that you didn’t come here with Jo to—"

 

 

 

“You know,” he says, as if she hasn’t spoken at all. “When we were kids, I loved Jo because Jo loved me. I loved you because you _saw_ me. You saw me and you stayed.” He’s telling her more than what he’s actually saying but Lacey can’t dissect his meaning. Not after this week from hell, not with his hand creeping further up her thigh. She closes her eyes and pictures the way she’s seen him look when he thinks no one is watching, feels herself shiver. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never…”

 

 

 

“Yes you do and you did,” he argues, pushing his hips closer. “You still _are_.”

 

 

 

“Danny…”

 

 

 

“You wanted me to touch you earlier—"

 

 

 

“I didn’t mean—" _like this_ and she hadn’t, but Lacey can’t bring herself to finish the sentence. They’d both know it would be a lie now. He keeps his eyes on her as his hand moves higher beneath her skirt. He runs his thumb along the edge of her panties and she presses closer, it’s all the encouragement he needs.

 

 

 

Danny starts off slowly, but Lacey can already tell that he’s good at this. He can’t have had much, if any, experience but he doesn’t fumble or touch her in a way she doesn’t like more than once. That’s all the time he needs to read her responses and shift gears. An image of an unsmiling Tara swims to the surface of her mind but she brutally pushes it aside. Lacey doesn’t want to think about what the hand between her legs has done. About how the very same intuitive, clever fingers  that once strangled the life out of a woman not a hundred yards from where she played, have her grabbing a fistful of his hair and kissing him harder, how they’re about to make her come.

 

 

“Does that feel good,” he breathes against the side of her neck, his voice low and ragged and her hips buck against him. “No,” she lies and he laughs like he used to, like he doesn;t have a care in the world. Danny sweeps his thumb higher, she can’t quite mask the gasp it pulls free and he jerks back against her a little roughly at the sound of it. “Yeah,” he mutters lowly. More to himself, she thinks, than to her. “That’s it.”

 

 

 

Something about that reminds her of Archie. Of the both of them in the backseat of his car, his lips against hers, hand sliding inside of her shirt ( _I lo—I mean, I think I might be in—)_ before she cuts the thought short and grabs Danny’s hand. “Stop,” she says and he does so, immediately, but doesn’t step away. She realizes she can feel him then— hard against the back of her hand—and thoughtlessly balls a fist, adding more pressure. He pushes back, lets his forehead drop to her shoulder as he caresses her outer thigh before giving it a sudden, stinging slap.

 

 

 

She lets out a sharp squeal of surprise as he backs away looking completely put together. Like they weren’t just making out, like he isn’t leaving her wet and wanting in her friend’s backyard. “Rain check, then?”

 

 

 

He’s turned away and halfway across the yard before Lacey can formulate a response.

 

 

-

 

 

“Come on, Lace,” he says pulling her hands up from his shoulders to his collarbone, baring his neck for her, daring her with the look in his eyes. “Do it.”

 

 

 

They’re in his bedroom, his mother’s somewhere romancing a glass of wine and they won’t be interrupted anytime soon. They’re naked and he’s on his back between her legs but he’s not inside of her.  Lacey’s not a hundred percent why that is. It’s not about Archie anymore—if he can lie about what he does than so can she—and she hasn’t exactly been a virgin for a while now. Lacey guesses it could be the control. The therapist they made her see after Tara died told her she might be pulling away from Jo, might be making a new life and new friends to _try and take the reins against the chaos in her environment_. It wouldn’t be strange for the return of her murdering ex-best friend alongside the death of her new best friend to throw her into an emotional tailspin.

 

 

 

He touches her forearm, pulling her attention back where he wants it and, looking down at him, everything but _this_ falls away.

 

 

 

Lacey’s still at first and he doesn’t rush her while she studies the expanse of skin between his shoulders, as she thumbs the little dip at his clavicle. His _Supersternal Notch_ , if _The English Patient_ can be believed.  She remembers sneaking and watching it with Jo at one of their last sleep overs together, the feel of the other girl’s toes against her leg as they looked on, breathless and scandalized. She’d thought it was almost unbearably romantic, the way Katharine and Almásy loved one another. How, listening to her parents argue in the next room, she’d imagined someone loving her that way one day. Danny stares up at her with those eyes— _bedroom eyes_ , she thinks. Warm and soft, eyes that _wantandwantandwant_ —as she drags her hands up, lets her thumbs meet in front and stretches the rest of her fingers back around his throat. 

 

 

 

She thinks of Katharine and Almásy again. About how she wanted that kind of love even though it kills them both in the end.

 

 

 

His hips jump against her and his eyes close for a second, just a moment, but it’s enough. No matter how he pretends, no matter how many secrets he keeps, he won’t be able to take that back. She is making him come undone. His hands move to her waist slowly, almost tentative when she never would’ve thought he could be described as such. She wonders if he’s doing it purposely, to try and set her at ease, and realizes that he would never tell her. That he might not even know himself.

 

 

 

He holds her tighter and helps her start a rhythm against him, molasses slow and frustratingly sweet. It’s good, but not good enough to push her over. He wants her that way, she thinks. Out of her mind with the want of it and Lacey works her hips faster just to spite him, bites her lip at the feel and lets her head lull to the side when he laughs suddenly. She looks down but he only stares back with a flat grin, a secret he refuses to share. She gets a better grip on his throat and he chuckles again, lower this time, darker.  She feels his dick jump against her inner thigh and grinds harder against it. He thinks he’s knows everything, that he’s one step ahead of everyone but he doesn’t know her. Not anymore.  Lacey squeezes a little tighter, listens to his laugh become a strangled gasp, feels herself get slicker against him.

 

-

 

Lacey doesn’t know if this is what she wants, or if it’s what he wants. She isn’t sure there’s much of a difference these days.


End file.
